Page 63 of My Scarred Laird

Islay’s stomach was growling, but she didn’t want anything they made for her, so she stayed silent.

The men dug into the rabbit, and she sat, watching them eat in disgust.

“Oy, get that ale. I’m dying of thirst.”

The man who held her on his horse stood, getting the canteen, and taking a large swig.

Then he handed it over, and Islay watched as the second man took a large swig as well.

“This tastes funny.”

The first man took another swig, “It’s ale. Ale never tastes right.”

The second man shrugged, taking another drink, then setting the ale down by his leg.

Islay watched as they ate, passing the canteen back and forth until it was empty.

She could only pray the nightshade juice did what she knew it could.

Certain enough, within twenty minutes, both the men were laughing, uncontrollably laughing, and one couldn’t seem to stand up.

The other kept looking at his hand, blinking hard, and trying to figure out what was going on.

When they stopped laughing, her original captor started coughing, “I canna breathe.”

The other laughed again, “Me either.”

This started another round of laughing hard.

One of the men grabbed his chest, and he slowly sat down, his coughing increased.

The other man was breathing hard, and he slowly listed to one side, and as soon as he hit the ground, he was out.

His breathing slowed, then stopped.

The second man was doing the same thing, and within moments he too had stopped breathing.

Islay stood, waiting to see if they were truly dead, and they were.

She rushed to them, checking them both, finding that she indeed had killed them.

She wanted to feel bad for what she had done, but she knew it was for the best.

She refused to be a damsel in distress. Not wanting Callum to get hurt fighting for her. She knew he was more than capable of saving her, but so was she.

She saved herself because she kept calm and found the berries that she used to her advantage.

Grabbing a dagger from one of the men, Islay cut her bonds and walked over to the horses, both fine creatures that she refused to leave out here alone.

She gathered the reins of one horse, vaulting into the saddle, and held the reins of the other, leading it away.

Back to Callum.

She looked over her shoulder at the men she killed and took a deep breath.

She prayed that she could be forgiven for their deaths, and that they wouldn’t be a stain on her soul.

Though, she didn’t regret their deaths. That was why she didn’t want the stain.